THE ARTIST

“Are you really that obnoxious?” She screamed.

“Ohh! You always underestimate me dear!” He growled back.

A healthy relationship works when both the involving parties are truthful to each other. Keeping some secrets from your partner is a excusable approach towards a healthy relationships but you have to be very good at it, otherwise it all just crumble down like a deck of cards and you don’t want that when you are trying build up a castle and even the wind is too strong.

“Are you even feeling a little guilty, a little ashamed? Or it is just another shade of your temporizing personality? How many more lies and secrets have you been hiding behind that hideous mask?” She spitted those words with utter disgust.

‘Do you have any more secrets?’ That really cranked him up hard inside but he didn’t want to add any more fuel to the already raging fire with a gut-ranching laughter. Anything she had discovered by a self-inflicted detective attitude of her was just the scratch on the surface.

He stood there silently. A hundred things were running in his mind but he wanted her to think that he really gave a damn about what she was saying. Being a very charismatic and versatile artist always help you to adapt to a new character with great ease and perfection and the new character he was portraying was not bad at all.

The sun had already rested for the day and it was for the moon to reflect some light but it was not able to penetrate the thick covers of the forest. A dark canvas to paint on, may be some bright red colour would have been a wise choice. The owls had taken over and the nightly creature were slowly finding their ways back from their shades into the darkness. The tall trees were a great help to hide the small wooden house in the midst of such a big scary forest. The voice of the women was audible up to a few meters because no human growls can overpower the ghastly growls of the hungry wolfs. The forest is more alive at night because all the living and non-living spirits come alive at night.

All artists draw inspiration from the nature itself. The dead silence of the night always inspires artists to sketch their best crafts. May be that was the day when a new artists was in the making. You have to be pushed to the edge to produce your best craft. The setting was perfect and may be it was the day when a new chapter was going to be written in the heart of the forest.

The screaming of the women was getting more prominent and loud. The words were finding hard to make much sense amidst the crying and sobbing. A broken heart is touch to mend but a broken faith is impossible to be restored. The high pitch voice of the women was making the night restless. From far away the hooting of the owl and the rhythmic cry of the wild dogs were just adding to the crudeness of the unforgiving jungle. And suddenly all of it stopped. No more voices, no crying, no sobbing, nothing. The night came to a halt. An uneasy grim took over the night. And then suddenly the dogs started crying. The gloomy cry that can tear down even rocks. One soul captured in the darkness of the forest and another one set free. The artist had risen again and this time never to stop again.

 

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